


A Clan of Two

by Passionate_Storyteller



Series: Exploring scenes from The Rescue [2]
Category: The Mandalorian (TV)
Genre: Family, Gen, Goodbyes
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2021-02-08
Updated: 2021-02-08
Packaged: 2021-03-13 23:34:56
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 2
Words: 3,410
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/29286882
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Passionate_Storyteller/pseuds/Passionate_Storyteller
Summary: "He means more to me than you will ever know."Saying goodbye is hard, even - especially - when it's necessary.
Relationships: Din Djarin & Grogu | Baby Yoda
Series: Exploring scenes from The Rescue [2]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/2150781
Comments: 17
Kudos: 52





	1. the choice

**Author's Note:**

  * Inspired by [I Love You Enough to Let You Go](https://archiveofourown.org/works/28302117) by [NiCad](https://archiveofourown.org/users/NiCad/pseuds/NiCad). 



> Huzzah, this fic that's been haunting me for over two weeks is finally done!

_“Don’t worry, kid,” His protector said, “I’m going to get you out of here.”_

Grogu felt the brush of his glove against his head, and watched his protector – his _father_ – stand. The words were bold; but underneath the fierce determination, Grogu could feel his desperation. And fear.

He trembled, shrinking in on himself. Trying not to remember the Dark Time. It had started with desperation, too. Would it matter, this time, that he wasn’t alone?

 _Help_ , he thought. A desperate plea of his own. He knew he couldn’t do anything against them, as much as he wanted to. Their strength outmatched his powers. He trusted his father, and was sure that their allies – friends? – were very good. But he feared it wasn’t enough. So he shut his eyes tight, letting the voices of the others flow over him.

“Seal the blast doors!” _Whoosh_.

“They’re here.”

A moment, then: _clang_. The doors shook. _Clang_. Again. _Clang_.

Grogu shivered. He curled his hands together, and his breath shuddered.

The Enemy was speaking to his father, and Grogu caught the last words. “… everyone in this room will be dead, except me…” He felt the Enemy look at him, then at his father. “And the child.”

Grogu bared his teeth, eyes snapping open. _No_. If it came to that… well. He hissed, his ears flattening against his skull, hair sticking up. Grogu wasn’t wearing those cold power-sucking cuffs anymore. He flexed his claws.

And then, he felt a soft warmth, lighting from within. Not his, but one he’d felt before. On Tython.

An alarm blared.

Fear and anger became shock, worry, confusion.

“An X-wing.”

“Great, one X-wing? We’re saved.”

Grogu felt the light flare.

 _I’m coming, little one_.

His eyes widened. Cara was more accurate than she knew.

 _Hurry_. He replied to the light, sending an impression of speed.

An impression of a smile returned, full of calm focus. Grogu drew on that calm with dawning hope.

“A Jedi?” breathed one of the others, watching a holo-feed of the corridors. Grogu felt his father turn, and looked also. Though he didn’t need to. Not when he could feel the presence coming ever closer, an unstoppable force that was barely slowed by the obstacles in their way.

He got up, an idea in mind.

A flare of dark intent from the Enemy made him pause, and Grogu watched as he shot the blue and white Mandalorian, then aimed at him. Grogu was unafraid.

His father protected him, the shots bouncing off his armour.

Trusting in the others to take care of the problem, Grogu continued his path towards the holo-feed. He watched, feeling the echo in his bones. _Yes_.

Behind him, he felt his father stumble to his feet, felt him see Grogu watching.

They watched the Jedi defeat the last of the void-monsters together.

Perhaps he should have been alarmed by the ease that the Jedi disposed of them; the apparent viciousness of his actions as he did. But Grogu could feel his emotions – and, unlike the last time he’d seen such viciousness, they were not Dark. There was the strong desire to protect, the urgency that leant efficiency to his blade, and the solemnity of its necessity.

Here was one who knew what it was like to take a life, and to spare it. He knew that there would be no reasoning with these creatures, whatever they once were; no chance of stunning them or disposing of them in any other way. So he did what he must as quickly and cleanly as possible, while taking no delight in it.

Grogu felt his father’s regard, as they watched the screen, and knew he understood, too.

Then, the last of the voids were destroyed, and the Jedi walked towards the bridge, his path clear.

Grogu saw his path ahead clear too. But was he strong enough?

He turned towards his father, and looked at him. His father looked back. Then Grogu looked beyond, to the doors. He knew what was coming.

So did his father.

*

Din watched the figure on the holo-feed walk forward, their steps confident and true. Their defeat of the troopers had been amazing; to think that Din struggled with one, and yet this being – a Jedi, he presumed – took care of them with such ease.

Yes. This was a worthy protector. He watched Grogu lean into the holo-feed, as if encouraging the Jedi closer. Then he turned away, to Din.

And he knew, then, that the time had come.

They looked at each other for a moment. Then Grogu’s gaze slipped past him, to the doors, and he whined. Din knew what he wanted.

He picked up Grogu, holding him close for these final moments. “Open the doors.” He said, his voice steady and sure.

The others did not move. Their weapons were still armed, still aiming for the entrance. He began to walk forward, realising they did not understand. Not yet. “I said, open the doors.”

He ignored Shand’s exclamation, finally reaching the door controls himself. He set Grogu down on the seat, and unlocked them.

Then moved to stand directly in front, as they opened. The others at his back, and Grogu half-hidden at the side.

At first, all he could see was the laser sword, through the smoke. Then the being attached to it walked forward, with their hood up.

Once clear of the doors, the laser was retracted, the weapon put away, and the hood pulled back.

Din studied the human who was revealed.

He noted how their gaze took in the room at a glance, before looking to where Grogu sat. Din’s eyes followed the movement, and he tilted his helmet ever-so-slightly to the side. So much for hiding him.

At the Jedi’s glance, Grogu peeked out from behind the chair. Din noted his relaxed appearance, and something in him loosened. But he had to make sure.

“Are you a Jedi?” he asked.

“I am,” the other replied.

Then they looked towards Grogu fully, and extended their hand. “Come, little one.” They said.

Din’s heart clenched.

He looked at Grogu, seeing him glance uncertainly between the Jedi and himself. At his soft coo, Din’s resolve wobbled. “He doesn’t want to go with you.” He said to the Jedi, speaking carefully.

The Jedi merely stared back. “He wants your permission.” They corrected.

Din swallowed. His helmet tipped, as he fought to meet the Jedi’s eyes. So, it was a universal Jedi thing, to be able to communicate so fluently with the kid.

The Jedi’s eyes were kind. “He is strong with the Force.” They said, “But talent without training is nothing.”

Din knew this. Similar phrases were the backbones of his childhood in the Corps. He stared as the Jedi continued, “I will give my life to protect the child… but he will not be safe until he masters his abilities.” Their blue eyes were guileless; they only spoke the truth.

Din couldn’t speak. With another shallow almost-nod, he turned away, walking to Grogu. He picked him up, meeting his pleading eyes through his visor. He knew the others were staring, but ignored them.

He cradled Grogu in his hands. “Hey, go on.” He said, “That’s who you belong with. He’s one of your kind.” Din felt his voice crack, and breathed, fighting for his composure. They walked towards the Jedi, stopping before him. How could he let him go?

How could he let him stay?

He’d done his best, but all his care – his love – was not enough to protect him; Gideon had shown him that. Grogu was, indeed, strong with his powers, and leaving him untrained would be the same as giving him the old Amban to play with unsupervised. He was still so young, so small. The Jedi would succeed where he couldn’t. So he would do what he must.

He looked at Grogu, memorising the details of his small face. His breathing hitched, and he wrestled with his control again. “I’ll see you again,” he told him, voice shaking, “I promise.”

Grogu looked at him, and Din could see the emotions in his eyes. They were mirrors to Din’s own. And then his little hand raised, reaching towards Din’s helmet.

Din almost smiled; it was hardly the first time Grogu had been curious about his face. Yet this time was different. Doubts and reluctance of the past seemed unimportant after what they’d been through. Binding them together, despite the impending separation.

“Ooh-eh-nn,” Grogu cooed, eyes locked on Din’s. _Please?_

The voice was soft – it was more like a feeling. Din recognised it all the same.

How could he deny that, now?

Slowly, Din took off his helmet, keeping his eyes on Grogu.

Usually, the world outside the helmet seemed loud and overbright in the first seconds after removal, but today it was the opposite. He heard Cara’s stifled gasp, but it was muted, as if from a great distance. Even the all-seeing eyes of the Jedi – currently averted, thank ka’ra, in an illusion of privacy – barely registered.

Din watched Grogu take in the face underneath the helmet, and met his eyes without the visor in between for the first time.

Grogu reached up again, his hand touching Din’s chin. For a moment, Din could barely breathe. Skin against skin. Overwhelming all else. He closed his eyes for a moment, savouring the touch. Memorising it. Then opened them to meet Grogu’s gaze, and the overwhelming love there.

 _Buir_. That same soft voice said.

Din smiled briefly. _Ner ad_. He thought back, trusting that Grogu would sense his love, if the words themselves didn’t make it.

My son.

He’d been fighting against acknowledging that, even to himself; knowing it would make it harder to return him. Yet sometime after their second escape from Nevarro but before Corvus, protector and caretaker had turned into parent.

Perhaps he should have expected it; they were Clan, after all. But nothing about Grogu had been expected. Why would this be any different?

He knew what he’d felt when Grogu had been captured; his heart shattering into the open. And no matter how he tried to set it aside, it continued to bleed through.

On Morak, when faced with what he had to sacrifice, in order to find him; and after, when he’d sent the message to Gideon, baiting him. When they’d reunited, after his battle with Gideon was done, he’d felt the love Grogu had for him. The time for denial was past.

But that didn’t make this any easier. The smile dropped from his face.

“All right, pal,” he said, “It’s time to go.”

Grogu whined, his ears drooping. Din swallowed. _Me too, kid_.

“Don’t be afraid.” He whispered, then knelt and set him down.

He stood up, releasing a breath, to find the Jedi watching them. He met his gaze with surprising ease.

Before he could think too hard on it, he was distracted by a familiar pressure on his boot. He looked down, seeing Grogu clinging. His hands twitched, but he stilled them, and did not move. _Go on, you can do it_. He thought. He wasn’t sure if he was addressing Grogu, or himself.

For a moment, he was lost. Din knew, somehow, that Grogu wasn’t refusing to make the choice, but just wanting a bit more time. He would give him it, but he wouldn’t – couldn’t – say (do) anything more. No further persuasion was needed; and his throat was too choked for words, as it was.

Then, a droid’s beeps tore his gaze from Grogu. A blue astromech unit rolled in. Din cast his eyes over it, feeling Grogu turn.

The droid continued to warble, and Grogu began to walk towards it. Din watched him go.

Grogu stopped before the droid and cooed. Din felt his eyebrows raise. Where did the kid learn droid-speak?

Even now, he continued to surprise him.

Din felt eyes on him, and looked, to meet the gaze of the Jedi again. The Jedi nodded wordlessly, and Din remembered the earlier promise: “ _I will give my life to protect the child_ ”.

He nodded, in return. _I trust you_.

Grogu cooed at the Jedi, lifting his arms. The Jedi picked him up, and they stared at each other for a few moments. Another Jedi conversation, Din surmised.

Then the Jedi looked back at him. “May the Force be with you.” He said.

Din blinked back at him. What _was_ the proper response to that, anyway?

The Jedi held Grogu close, then turned and began to walk away, the droid following. Grogu peered over the Jedi’s shoulder, and Din met his eyes again.

They held each other’s gaze as the Jedi carried Grogu to the lift; a walk which seemed to both take an age, and yet be over in an instant. As they stepped in, the Jedi turned, and Grogu shifted to keep Din in sight. Din saw his hand twitch, and he dipped his head in response.

 _I will see you again_. He had promised, and so he would – whether that was in one year, or ten.

This was not goodbye. At least, not forever.

The doors of the lift closed, sealing them apart until that day.

Only then did Din look down to where his helmet rested. He knelt on one knee to pick it up, hands either side of the visor. Angling his body to block out the rest of the room, he studied his reflection.

On Morak, he’d been amongst enemies, with Mayfield his only ally – and a dubious one at that. Here, he was among friends, and the Jedi was the only non-Clan being to see his face. The similarity was the reason. Everything he’d done, he’d done for the child. For how much Grogu meant to him.

And that – that would never change, despite the distance now between them. They would forever be a Clan of Two.

Closing his eyes, secure in his decisions, he lifted the helmet, turned it, and set it over his head again.

Din allowed himself one final moment to breathe before slowly standing and turning towards the rest of the group.


	2. aftermath

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> "You're a strange one, Mando." Bo-Katan muttered.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I wanted to explore the others a little.

Din’s movement seemed to unlock the rest from their frozen positions, where they’d watched the display. Kryze and Reeves turned towards each other, Reeves putting one hand on Kryze’s arm while her other gestured to where Gideon’s shots had impacted the armour.

Shand gave Din a swift, searching look, full of curiosity and respect, before turning away and pulling out her comm, to contact Fett.

Cara approached Din, watching him carefully.

Her own eyes were a little red, and the surprise at his actions – and perhaps, the whole situation – was still written across her face in her slightly disbelieving smirk.

They studied each other for a moment, before she brought her right hand up to grip his shoulder. “That was brave.” She told him. Her face relaxed into a softer look; not quite a smile, but almost.

Din tilted his helmet forward in acknowledgement. Of this group of unlikely allies, Cara was one of the few who truly came close to grasping what he’d done (the other possibility being the absent Fett). “It was necessary.” He said softly, thankful the vocoder disguised the current rasp of his voice.

Cara nodded. “Still.” She said.

Din met her gaze through his helmet. “Yeah.” He said.

They stayed like that for a moment. Then Cara dropped her hand, rocking back on her heels slightly. Her gaze flickered towards the door.

“Well, the kid’s in good hands, at least.” She said, then let out a soft chuckle, the smirk reappearing. “Never thought I’d see that hotshot again…” she added, almost to herself.

Din stared, his body going stiff. _Wait, what?_

A less welcome laugh echoed from behind them. “You’ll have to be more specific than that for _this_ Mando to understand, Dune.” Kryze said, walking up.

Cara shut her eyes and breathed out through her nose. “Listen, Kryze -” she began, but Din spoke over her.

“You all right?” he asked Kryze, turning to face her. He ignored her slight against him. He was beginning to realise that just because their training had prioritised different things didn’t necessarily mean either way was more valid, and he had other things to think about.

Kryze herself seemed startled by the question, her helmet jerking back slightly. “Me?” she responded.

Din dipped his head, helmet tipping forward slightly. “Those blasters pack a punch, and you were hit directly.” He said.

Kryze huffed. “My armour is _beskar_.” She reminded him.

Din just looked at her, and she finally scoffed and turned away. “I am _fine_.” She snapped, “Most of the shots deflected; it was merely their closeness that knocked me back.”

Din dipped his head again. “Good.” He said, then shifted on his feet as the conversation reminded him of his own bruises. “That makes one of us…”

“You’re a strange one, Mando.” Kryze muttered, turning towards Reeves.

Din tilted his helmet to the side slightly. “Perhaps.” He said. He hesitated, then added, “And… you’re sure you won’t take this?” He put his hand on the Darksaber.

Kryze turned back, her helmet twisting to focus on it. “No.” she said, quietly. “For all he’s a dishonourable hut'tuun, Gideon was correct when he spoke of how it must be won.”

Din tipped his helmet towards the ceiling of the cruiser. “I was afraid you’d say that.” He muttered.

His mood was not helped by hearing hastily muffled chuckles from Cara – and Shand. _Figures_.

Kryze spoke again. “And it would not be honourable to fight, now. Not when this business -” she gestured towards the unconscious Gideon, “- has barely concluded.”

Din tipped his helmet towards her, acknowledging that fact. She was right; they were still allies while on this ship. It would not be _right_ to fight for it, now.

“I understand.” He said.

A soft cough from Shand caught their attention, and both turned towards her. “Boba’s on his way, and will be arriving shortly – he didn’t go far.” She said.

Din dipped his helmet at her, noting Kryze doing the same. Shand wasn’t finished. “Mando, Cara – you’re welcome to come with us, we can drop you off somewhere.” She added, “And Boba has plenty of good containment spaces for that scum.” She tipped her chin towards Gideon’s unconscious form.

Cara laughed. “I doubt the Republic would look too kindly on the hassle of carbonite, but whatever works.” She said, grinning.

Din didn’t move for a moment, blinking behind his visor as he processed Shand’s words. Surely Fett’s debt was repaid now? And yet, Shand wouldn’t have offered unless Fett was genuine.

He tilted his helmet to the side, amused. Seems like he’d got some new friends, out of all this. “Sure.” He finally said, realising a response was required.

It was better than nothing, after all. And meant he could avoid the hassle of liberating and upgrading an Imperial ship from the cruiser. Fett’s ship had a med unit, for one…

Shand nodded at him, then typed something into her comm.

“While we wait…” Kryze began, and Din turned towards her curiously.

“You never did get the chance to tell us exactly how you won that.” Her finger flicked out towards the Darksaber.

Underneath his helmet, Din grinned. He felt his shoulders relaxing, his helmet tipping up slightly with the proud tilt of his chin. Despite the consequences, and the burden of the weapon he now owned, the fight itself had been a _good_ one.

“Well, I had this.” He said, pulling out his spear.

Kryze made an interested noise, and even Reeves – who’d been making a remarkable attempt at a watchful statue off Kryze’s right shoulder – turned her helmet in curiosity.

Din leant against a console behind him and began telling the tale.

As he did so, his free hand slipped into a pocket of his suit, finding the silver ball he knew would be there. His (their) Mudhorn sigil caught the light and gleamed.

*

In hyperspace, half-asleep, Grogu’s claws twitched, holding fast to his mythosaur pendant as he huddled against the Jedi’s robes.

An un-gloved hand brushed over his head and down his back, and Grogu sighed.

“You’re very lucky, little one.” The voice of his new teacher said softly. “You and your father both.”

As the Jedi relaxed back against the seat for his own rest – his droid would wake him up if there was a need – the X-wing continued on, speeding towards their destination.

**Author's Note:**

> I adore the goodbye scene and will defend it against anyone. It's just a perfect example of some of the core concepts of Star Wars to me. And a beautiful example of what it's like to let someone go. Even though it hurts.
> 
> This work is indebted to NiCad's work (linked) and fanfoolishness (LoonyLupin)'s  
> [The Sacrifice](https://archiveofourown.org/works/28931928).
> 
> Mando'a translations:  
> buir = parent.  
> ner ad = my son  
> hut'tuun = coward


End file.
